Both Sides of the Door
by LoveTheBoyWithTheBread
Summary: Simon's POV. Gemma decides that she will tell Simon her secrets, rather than keeping them locked in a box. She takes him through the door of light. Set during Rebel Angels. Rated T for safety. Sorry, I am bad at summaries! Read, please!


**A/N--My first fic in this fandom. Simon's POV, set during Rebel Angels. I have tweaked the story, so that Gemma does decide to tell Simon her secrets. **

**This is supposedly a oneshot, but we'll see. Review and let me know what you think.**

**Disclaimer--I am not Libba Bray, and she is not I, but her characters make my day, so this story is now mine. :).**

**Enjoy! :)  
**_

* * *

"Gemma! Gemma!" It's Simon's voice I hear calling me back. His hand is over my mouth to stop my screams. "I am sorry. I meant no harm." (pg. 415. Rebel Angels).

* * *

_

I am trying to think through the fog of the absinthe, but it isn't working well.

"Simon," she says calmly. It is as if she is waking from a nightmare. "Do you want to know my secrets?"

I smile at her, glad she is no longer upset, and ready to tell her how well I already know her secrets. But something about her voice, her bright green eyes...it seems she is serious. "And what secrets might you have, Miss Doyle?"

She is calm, and I can see her fighting a battle within herself. It is as if she is about to tell me something truly terrible, and I'm not sure if I want to hear it. "It would be easier for me to show you, than for me to tell you."

My smile falters. I am not sure to what she is alluding. "If you have an extra toe, I assure you I do not want to see it."

She smiles at me, and shakes her head, hesitantly. "No, I am completely serious, Simon." She is completely serious.

"Well go on then."

I watch her take a deep breath, she reaches for my hands, I give them to her. "I will need your help, Simon. Close your eyes, and think of a door of light."

I don't see how thinking of a door of light will be of any help at all, but I humor her. In my mind's eye, I can see it. It shimmers and glistens and is beautiful. A light in the darkness. I feel Gemma standing next to me, hear her breathe. I wish to open my eyes, but do not want to break the spell of imagination that she is weaving in me. I feel as if I will fly, but maybe it is just the absinthe swimming in my veins.

"Simon," she whispers. "Open your eyes."

I do. In front of me, is in fact a door of light, but not as I have imagined it to be. It stands tall, and proud, and far outshines the imagery I have seen behind closed lids. I look hesitantly at Gemma. The way she is watching me makes me uncomfortable. I smile to ease her mind, to let her know I am not afraid. "I do believe I've had a bit too much absinthe."

She frowns. "No. This is real. I'll show you." She leads me to the door, and then we are walking through it. We are in a beautiful garden. Happiness is an aura here. The flowers, the grass, the trees, the river: they all simply sing happy.

"Where are we, Gemma?" I ask in awestruck wonder. If this is my mind, then I am grateful to it. If this is real, then clearly I have misinterpreted the world.

"In the Realms. This is the garden. And watch." She bends down and picks up a handful of pebbles. She looks at my face, then back down to her palm. She closes her eyes, and the rocks transform to butterflies. One flutters up and lands on my nose, momentarily, before flying away.

"How did you do that?" I ask, mystified. "Why have I never heard of this place before?" But even as I say it, I know that it's a lie. I've heard of the Realms, of magic, and of sorceresses. I just chose not to believe.

When I was young, my father used to tell me stories about such a fantastical place. It was a place that I would pine for, but never truly believe in. He spoke of the Order, rulers of the Realms, safe-guarders of the magic. After telling me such tales, he would then go on to describe the Rakshana. A group of men who were protectors of the Order, and lovers. They helped guard the Realms, but were never allowed to have the power, except when they were joined with a member of the Order. I would shake my head, and laugh at his fairytale, but he would only tell me that I would understand when I was older, that I too, would be a member of the Rakshana. These foolish claims only solidified my opinion that every word coming from his mouth on the matter of magic was false.

Now I am older, and I understand.

"Most people haven't," Gemma answers. "It is kept secret, and no one can get in anymore except for me. I alone have the power."

Power. Do I want a part of Gemma Doyle's power? Of course, her secrets have intrigued me, her strangeness, her oddity. But am I really ready to take on a girl that claims to be a sorceress, even if not in so many words? I'm not sure. I absolutely adore Gemma. She would make a good match for me, because she is different, and I like that. She is headstrong, and smart, and a rebel. I love all those things about her. But this sort of power could be dangerous for me. I'm not sure I am willing to take it on.

"How long have you known about this power?" I ask her. I am not prepared for her answer.

She takes up a good ten minutes talking, something I am not accustomed to in a woman. And though I enjoy hearing her voice, and I thoroughly enjoy her story, just the fact that she has such a story to tell scares me. She tells me about the death of her mother--not a sickness, but a murder. She tells me about her visions, and their tendency to come true. She tells me about Kartik, an Indian boy who has helped, and hindered her along the way, though her face grows red and her eyes cast downward when she speaks of him. This gesture has me jealous, though I can't exactly say why. Then she tells me about Circe, the Order, the Rakshana, things I already know, and things I've never heard of. They come together to form a brilliant story that I would never accept if I weren't now a part of it.

I stare at her, as she finishes. My eyes are wide, and my mouth is hanging open a bit, but I can't compose myself. "Simon?" Gemma asks me as I continue to stare at her.

"Can I make butterflies, too?" That is my answer. I feel an utter fool, but she just laughs and smiles at me.

"You can make anything you want, here."

I feel that maybe I can take on this powerful girl. And as I look into her startlingly green eyes, I see a future ahead for us. A future that is not only here, but on both sides of the door of light.

* * *

**A/N--well? Hit or miss? Review please :). Thanks a ton!**


End file.
